Talking Leaves トーキング葉
by OrangeInk101a
Summary: A small pebble drops into the ocean creates a tsunami of the largest scale across the world. Alright, so, she's the pebble. What's her Tsunami? (AU, Reincarnation, Self-Insert)
1. Introduction

Lesson One: Nothing ever _truly_ dies.

I'll spare you the details of my death. That doesn't matter, it was long ago and entirely irrelevant to what happened to me _after_ my death.

I'll also save you from the details of my rebirth-but it was nasty. Looking back, I don't know how the hell I remember much of what was going on but I chose to suppress those memories because I didn't want to remember them in slightest. Humans are not made to remember those dark times, it is simply unnatural that I did. (Shiver.)

Instead I'll tell you the part when I was first _fully_ coherent (_because being a baby you only have one objective, eat, sleep,_ _poop_) and aware of my surroundings.

I was three months old with my eyesight just fully developing. At that time I had far realized that I had been stuck in a infant's body, triggering many many break downs and frantic parents. I had shied away from them, shunned them and tried to drag my uncooperative body as far away as possible. These weren't my parents, I wanted my family! I knew it was ridiculously selfish. I knew they couldn't control having me reborn into their child's body at all.

But there were some big, gaping holes in my memory.

Like how was it I was so acutely aware of my surroundings? How did I recognize my favorite color(orange?) How did I think in an entire different language? Was it normal for such an infant to think this way?

Something in the back of my mind screamed 'No.' Everytime it did, I felt like I was missing something important.

It frustrated me, not remembering, causing a migraine to pulse through my skull.

But other than that, I concentrated on the world around me.

My mother held me close and rocked me to and fro, I gurgled on happily.

I had hardly any movement control, and I had no voice. But I was starting to slowly process the language around me and match pictures to words, and faces to voices. Day by day my eyesight and hearing got better, and more and more I became aware of myself.

I played with blocks, and sometimes my tummy felt funny, I'd throw up on them. When I was in a good mood I'd wriggle around the house wanting to explore every inch. My mother had a hard time keeping up with me, I was afraid, I was a hyperactive baby, always looking for something to satisfy my mature mind.

I picked up on things quickly, so quickly in fact that I noticed sometimes my mother would stare at me in wonder.

Why bother hiding? It wasn't like anything bad was going to come from it, right? I mean if they think me some sort of genius then they would just slap me on TV okay? Besides, how my mother brought no one the house was suspicious-didn't mother's want to show off their babies?-so I wasn't worried about being to popularized too soon.

But the reason for this was not as innocent as I assumed this world-this _entire_ world, polluted. Perhaps this new world was cursed-or maybe, just I.

Because I found out to soon _where_ I was-and later _who_ I was.

I was better off not knowing.


	2. Between Smart and Stupid

Lesson Two: There is no true thing as "prodigy" only hard work and the advantage of every available opportunity.

"Eda" I whispered aloud, finishing the character枝, it was my name. Though a bit strange and corny- it literally was "Branch of a tree" squashed together. It also meant "Knot."

I did recognize the common language as Japanese when I was about four months old, though I had no vocal cords and no refined motor control, my eyes had developed. From my old life, I knew enough Japanese words as there were fingers on my hand. Though, it was a big change from the English I had spoken, it was welcome.

See, this way, it would seem like I was just a child-if I knew the language already it would seem quite suspicious of a newborn. While I didn't care about my sloppy showing off I _did_ care about keeping myself away from scientists possibly wanting to get a peek at how I thought. There was a line between being smart and just plain freaky.

It also gave my adult brain a pleasure of figuring out the grammar and puzzles of a language I hardly knew squat about.

While "Eda" it seemed much like a boy's name, I liked it a lot in a strange way. "Branches" reminded me of family trees, and "Knots" reminded me of relationships.

However the way my mother picked my name was exasperating, if not bemusing.

While I had been incoherent for most of my rebirth, my mother decided to splay a bunch of cards with Japanese characters out on the table. With these, names of children on each one, then she placed my hands firmly upon the table.

Whatever card I was supposed to grab would be my new name. Of course, being a slobbering baby I picked one up and slobbered all over it.

枝 "Eda"

It was a _boy's_ name. (1)

But my new mother recalled that memory fondly.

From what I could see, I had no father. Only my mother who took care of all my needs while I was home.

My days would go somewhat like this, I'd try to crawl or walk in the morning, before giving up and calling my mother with a childish scream. Then she'd feed me food, change my diaper systematically. (That was embarrassing, but after a while I just went with the flow.) After she'd bustle around, cleaning, sorting taxes, or whatever she is while she left me to "play around" with some stuffed toys and books. (I disguised this as "training" of my motor skills.) Then a few hours later I'd cry out again-usually when she was done- and she'd come rushing in and tend to my needs, whether I was hungry or needed a change. She'd play with me, teach me letter and numbers, and all sorts of other things. Like "牛" meant "cow" and "犬" meant dog. She'd read me stories, which I'd try to puzzle out. Play "doll" with me, as I tried to rein in my baby speak. But then she'd place me down to "sleep" and walk out of the apartment around the early afternoon. Her ob-I presumed started then.

But shouldn't it have been really stupid to let a baby on their own for hours?

Honestly, it wasn't. Because usually after playing around I'd grow so tired I'd sleep straight on to the next day. I was a quiet kid, and my mother didn't stress too much over me. I would only wake up in the night screaming my lungs out if I was hungry or needed a change-and that, was rare. Over in all, I was a quiet kid.

But as I got older that changed.

By the time I was one, I knew how to stumble around. I knew few words like "Kaa-chan," a few animals, objects, and foods. Roughly twenty to thirty words my vocal cords could speak around. While I was pretty proud of my accomplishments, I was happy to finally lose most of my baby toys.

More so ditching the diaper.

By the time I was two, I know how to string together sentences (roughly) and walk fluidly (occasionally tripping.) I could also clobber up couches, and weakly pull myself up on chairs.

Being inside all day, every day, with no open windows would have severely limited a child's learning ability. But I wasn't a child, was I? It would have stunted my growth of knowledge, and it did, somewhat. I couldn't point to the things I wanted to know the names of, I could only rely on the picture books my mother brought home and her fantastic hand at drawing.

My mother also made sure she'd rattle off her mouth whenever she could. She taught me simple words in Japanese, and I caught on quickly.

However, my mother was keeping secrets from me. Dark secrets.

But I was hardly knee high, what could I do? All I could pull off was innocent interrogation. If my mother lied (which she probably would) I'd have to use the words to see underneath them.

"Kaa-chan?" I tugged on her pant leg, "Why you …go… 'lltime?" I referred to her job (with my limited knowledge of Japanese and its grammar.)

She squatted down and patted my puffy hair, "Momma's work, honey" She hummed.

"Wo-rk." I repeated slowly, drawing out the word.

"Yes sweet pea, I need to bring in money." She kissed my cheek and stood up rearranging some papers on the kitchen table.

"But what…you do?" I stumbled.

"I…" She paused, my eyes narrowed in at the crossed expression on her face, "I service…men. It's not…" She struggled to find words to her miniature daughter, "A good job. But…it pays."

My eyes widened at the implications.

Oh.

Oh shit.

I just nodded and waddled back to my toys, all the puzzle pieces came back to me. She left the house early in the afternoon and came back in the wee hours of the morning. (She'd sleep most of the morning, and sometimes when I'd 'play' with my toys.) She covered dark circles under her eyes with make-up and wore flashy clothing. So she must "service men" elsewhere besides her bed, so either some home or she _went with the men_ to _their_ beds (which was twice as dangerous.) My new mother wasn't trashy and didn't do drugs, though she occasionally _did_ drink so that probably changed either when she was pregnant, or she had never done drugs at all-most street women I often saw did this.

They also got abortions. Typically. (They also had birth control and all that.)

So why had my mother kept me?

It didn't seem like she went into the business either with glee, but she could have been a young run away picked up by some whores home. (I hated calling them that, but I knew in some areas a whore was one of the best jobs for women. While back in the states it was often looked upon with shame.)

Perhaps my mother learned she was pregnant and took a small leave from the business when it became noticeable? Where had she found the money? A loan perhaps?

Or, she was getting out of the business (or that was what my mind wanted to think.)

Either way I was afraid for my mother.

Though I remembered the one in my old life quite clearly, I had grown some sort of weird attachment to this one.

To put it simply, I loved her.

And-judging by how sudden my old death was I told her every possible moment. When she was frowning I'd giggle, kiss her (try to) and tell her I loved her. She'd smile and call me her, darling little sweet pea. (2)

When I first saw a map, I was greatly confused. Granted, I had never looked closely at the maps of Japan before in my previous life but I was sure it wasn't split up into different countries. I had never heard of the "Fire Country" or the "Wind Country" ever in my life.

It should have rung bells back then, but to me it was simply impossible. I couldn't be reincarnated into a world that didn't exist, right? So I blew it off, what were the possibilities?

My mother loved to tell me stories about ninja and samurai. She'd sit every night and recount the stories of infamous legends. Stories of 'Hanzo the Salamander,' 'Hashirama Senju, God of Shinobi,' and her favorites, 'The Legendary Sannin.'

Now these also rang bells in my head, but I brushed them off. What were the chances of these people being the same as a manga I had read in my previous childhood? Ludicrous.

So I brushed it off while pushing away the facts, I lived my four years out in complete ignorance. Simply turning my head the other way to all proof and indications that I may be in fact, in a different world. _One that I knew about._

But like all things, they all must come to an end.

_That_ day started like any other.

I yawned and cracked open my eyes to see my mother leaning over me, "Good morning Eda," She said softly with a loving smile.

I stretched my gums as wide as they could go, "Kaa-chan!" I greeted. I knew a whole bunch of words now, and I could string them together, being the ripe age of four-I probably acted like a Ten to Twelve year old with my limited vocabulary on the Japanese language.

She kissed my forehead, "I have breakfast sitting on the counter, and a surprise in the cooler for later." She revealed.

I grinned and nodded, and slid out of my bed. "Kaa-chan," My tone took and inquiring side as I held her hand, "What are we going to do today?"

"We are going to have fun," She smiled.

That answer was always the same. But practice and reading were starting to get very old and boring, I kept wishing to get out and see the world again. I wished to see the blinding sun, to hear the birds singing, I wished to see the green pigments on the leaf. I missed everything about the outside world.

I munched on my breakfast while daydreaming about hiking through the wilderness. In the life previous I had been an outdoors person, I loved to spend every second I could outside with bare feet and wet hair. It was maddening to stay inside for so long.

I was jerked out of my musing by a raping on the door, my mother and I froze and looked at each other.

Then all the sudden I was being ushered into a cabinet urgently by my mother. I clamored inside-eye eyes wide with panic, _what the hell was happening_?

She whispered to me frantically while her eyes glanced back terrified at the door, "Don't make a sound. If they do, they will hear you. If they find you they will _kill_ you. Please, for my sake and yours be _silent_." She tucked a stray hair behind her ear, "If I don't not make it out of this find your way to Konoha, take the purple bag in the broom closet. It has identification and some snacks." She bit her lip, "I knew this might happen."

"Kaa-chan," I said worriedly, "What's going on?" My voice wavered. Was she speaking about her own death?

Both of us flinched at the sound of wood splintering, the hinges rattling. They-whoever _they_ were- had kicked a hole in the door, but even from this angle they wouldn't be able to spot us.

"I love you sweet pea," She whispered, her large brown eyes took up tears, "Don't you forget that. As my last wish, I hope you live the rest of your life happy. Don't trust strangers too much and remember to comb your hair every morning. Too many sweets are not good for you and-" She paused and smiled, "I think you know the rest."

"Kaa-chan!" My lip wobbled, was she really going to die in front of me? I couldn't just…sit around and let that happen!

"I love you!" She whispered, and stood up. A flame I had never seen before burned in her eyes, a kind of strength I could only dream of having.

"I love you too…" Whispered after her, biting my fist and holding back a sob. What had gone so wrong this morning? I closed the cupboard door and my world descended to into a cramped space of blackness.

I heard muffled voices speaking in low tones, I pressed my ear against the door but I couldn't hear what they were saying. _What is going on?_

I was confused, scared. There wasn't any light in the small cupboard, I couldn't peek out, but I clenched my fist to my chest and slowed my heavy breathing. It wouldn't do any good if they heard me, obviously they would…kill me like she said. But who would kill a whore and her daughter?

The words that were said I could only make out bits and pieces in the translation. But by the raised voices of-_three_-different men I supposed it was swearing at my mother. My mother's voice was slightly hysterical. But all I could decipher was the entire deal was about money. I held my breath, if this entire thing was about some kind of overdue debt they'd probably kill my mother and ransack the apartment. What would they do when they found the poorly made crib? The toys? They'd tear this place apart-my mother wasn't thinking, obviously when she place me here. I'd be better escaping out the window.

Perhaps they'd let her live, I hoped, just demand for compensation. If I went out there, they'd have a risk of seeing me. If they had a risk of seeing me, they'd probably use me to "convince" my mother by holding my hostage or something.

A lump formed in the back of my throat, I kept mindful of the voices. We were practically living in a one room apartment, however there was an island in the kitchen, and the cupboard I was in was behind it. The rest of the apartment had sheets and little dainty scarfs up for 'designated' rooms, other than that, it was all open. They'd tear it all down easy, there was a semi see through red scarf between me and the nearby window above the kitchen sink. (Also, covered by a scarf) but I knew we were on the second floor (curiosity kills the cat.) I pressed my ear against the door, they were on the other side of the room. Their muffled voices steadily grew to a shout, I bit my lip. Save the escape or Risk it?

_Risk it. _

When you were on the move motion was the only thing that saved you.

I creaked the cupboard open, through the small screen of cloth I could barely see the haze of three masculine figures backing up my mother into a wall. She was defensive, but giving her mouth right back at the men. A small well of pride bubbled up inside of me, I was _proud_ of who my mother was.

_Natuski_. No last name.

A beautiful name for a glorious woman. I thought, and out of all different kinds of lives she had this one. Where she should be pampered and loved for the rest of her life -she was whoring herself out to support herself and her daughter.

I sneaked past the men, watching to see if they would notice my movements-_success_, I was to the kitchen sink! I reached above my head and shakily pulled myself up on the corner of the counter, I paused-had they heard that?

I heard no pause in their conversation, (that still sounded like gibberish to me.) I snuck over to the window behind the curtain, I was on the second floor (of whatever building we were in,) but there was a small ledge I could fit my feet in the wall and balance (which was the window below.) Then I could grasp the window from our apartment and hang on for dear life with my skinny arms.

But I knew if it was the mob they'd eventually find me. But I just had to pray they wouldn't look out the window to see me. I also had to hope no one would go screaming their head off at some kid hanging out of their window.

I heard cloth ripping behind me, my eyes widened, _shit,_ they're searching!

I scrambled over to the window and hoisted it open, with one glance back I hoisted myself over the side.

_Don'tlookdownDon'tlookdownDon'tlookdown_

I looked down, and breathed a sigh of relief, some vendor was underneath me. About ten feet down there was a familiar tan canopy, and a hand that would occasionally hand out fruit to buyers.

I closed my breath and sighed, I was somewhat safe. At least I wouldn't break my neck if I fell, but I'd have an angry shopkeeper after my ass, but I'd be okay.

Then froze as the window slammed shut on its own.

There was _no way_ they _didn't_ hear that.

I was going to die.

…

(1) Eda is actually not a name at all. It's literally "Branches" in Japanese. But if it was, it would probably go for both genders. But "Eda" is upset because it doesn't really define her…yet.

(2) Have you noticed? In all of my other stories I take it really slow when I develop a character. This one I glancing over her traits, and going into things with great detail. This is to focus more on what is happening then going overboard with the OC herself. So, not much about her background, but as the story progresses and her decisions become clearer you'll get a grip on what she is like. This is something new to me, because usually detail detail detail is what makes the story.

Would any beta's out there be interested in reviewing this story? Just PM me and I'd love to work things out!


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